Hard To Breathe
by chagrin
Summary: “How many people have you killed in which you loved and loved you in return?” AU. NearxOC, mentions of MattxMello. Rated for language and non-graphic violence.


I didn't really know what I was doing as I lazily moved my toys around. There were no decent cases lately and I had been lonely ever since I let my comrades go. It was just like Wammy's House... being engulfed in loneliness constantly.

A small sigh fell from my lips just as the echo of somebody's high heels against a tiled floor hit my eardrums. It didn't take a genius to know who was behind me.. or maybe it did. I slowly looked up from my toys, disgusted, and I kept my back to the visitor.

"Near." a cold, somewhat high-pitched female voice greeted me somewhat.

"Tabby." I responded with the same iciness, though my voice was shades more hollow than hers.

"From the back you haven't changed a bit. Turn around so I can see if your face has changed any."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I took my time turning my body around. My eyes narrowed when I saw her.

Tabby was my age and she resembled me only slightly, though we were in no way related. When we were kids she had gone off and made a bet with another Wammy child and the consequence of losing the bet was that the loser dyed their hair white. Tabby had been the loser, but she enjoyed the way her hair looked when it was white and said she was keeping it that way. Her pale green eyes no longer held the girlish warmth they had the last time I'd seen her all those years ago; they'd frozen over with malice. My eyes trailed from her face to the shiny black object in her hand that was pointed at me. A pistol. Lovely.

"How did you find me?" I asked, curling a lock of hair around my finger out of habit.

"It wasn't that hard. Just as you specialize in planning or whatever it is you're so special at, I excel at finding people." She sounded as if she was suppressing laughter, as if I should have known this. In all truth, I really should have. I was number one and she was number six. I was smarter than her, and she knew it.

"A bounty hunter, yes?"

She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted look. The disgust on her face and the malice in her eyes made her look lethal. "No. Too goody-goody for me. Try assassin, Near."

I let a snort escape from between my lips. So she had given up her goody-two-shoes and kind ways. I shouldn't of doubted her when she talked about it at Wammy's.

"An assassin? So you are working with Mello?" I asked casually, turning back around. I heard sharp giggling behind me, and the sound of it was the same warmth I remembered. That did not calm the apprehensive tingling in the pit of my stomach though. I was scared of her. Why was I scared of her?

"Mello an assassin... thanks for the laugh, Near. No, actually, I haven't heard from him in three years."

"Matthew then?" I was faking curiosity, barely even paying attention. I was trying to decipher why I was afraid of her. I had been at gunpoint by both Matt and Mello, even at double gun point from the both of them together, and I hadn't been the least bit afraid. Was it because I truly believed Tabby had enough courage to kill me?

"Yeah... Matt. His hacking skills come in handy. Decent company, too." Tabby sounded bored. Boredom and hatred was one of the most lethal combinations I had ever heard of.

We both lapsed into silence, me shrugging my Transformers action figures around, and her boring her hatred filled gaze into my back.

"You don't look like much of an assassin in jeans and a hoodie, Tabby." I said after several minutes, my voice sounding like a hollow sigh.

"I thought you were smart. I can't look like an assassin or else I'd be arrested. I've got to blend in, y'know?" She sounded incredulous, and I internally smacked my forehead. There was so much I should know, and yet I didn't.

I ground my teeth together for a second. This small talk was starting to wear and tear on my nerves.

"Anastasiya Shapko, would you mind telling me why I have a gun pointed at the back of my head and why you have graced me with your presence after five years?" I asked, keeping my voice from quivering. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

A growl escaped from her throat when she heard her actual name. I knew better than to address her by her Ukrainian name, the name she was christened with, the name she despised. I just didn't really care at the moment.

"You have a pistol pointed at the back of your head because I got a call from a high ranking member of the Mafia who wants your head on a silver platter. I am being paid an excellent amount of money to deliver it to them. I am gracing you with my presence because I'd really rather do the job in person than fill this room with poisonous gas or something." Tabby responded, thoroughly enjoying herself from the sound of it.

Mello. I should have known. He wasn't brave enough to kill me on his own, in which I had witnessed numerous times in the past.

"How many people have you killed?" This time my curiosity was true and I turned myself back around, forcing myself to stare straight into her eyes. She glared back at me.

"Let's see.. I've been an assassin since I was sixteen.. that's been two years. I've got to say between twenty and twenty five." So it hadn't been too personal of a question.

"How many of those people have you known since your childhood?" I questioned, keeping my face unemotional.

I saw her blink back in surprise, then grimace and glare at me with more hatred than before.

"I know what you're playing at!" she yelled, voice ricocheting off the walls, "I'm not falling for it! Guilt tripping does nothing for me and it won't help save your life!"

"How many people have you killed in which were your close friends, ones that were constantly true to you?" I questioned more, my eyes narrowing only slightly.

Tabby's glare deepened, and a snarl appeared on her face. I saw her uncock the pistol in her hand and her finger apply a slight pressure to the trigger.

"Shut up, Nate River, or you'll die faster than I intended."

I took in a breath, gathered up my courage, and asked her something else.

"How many people have you killed in which you loved and loved you in return?"

I watched her finger squeeze the trigger, and I heard the gunshot.

I could say I felt it, but I did not. Shooting someone through the head killed them instantly, didn't you know that?

* * *

Author's Note:

I intend to create this into a series, detailing about how the two got this way. Review please. It'd make me very happy. :D


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